


A Ghost of Happiness

by lostinspxce



Series: crack fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, except they’re dementors, idk how this happened, just fluff, that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinspxce/pseuds/lostinspxce
Summary: Two dementors at Azkaban fall in love. Or, as close to love as they can get without having their own emotions.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: crack fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167239
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	A Ghost of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Ludo and Lex Jr. for this...
> 
> I don’t even know how it happened. One moment we were talking about gay dementors, the next it was an hour later, 1am, and I had 800 words written. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

To most people in the wizarding world, Azkaban was the worst place imaginable. Cold, dark, and dreary; a place without happiness, without hope. This was true, in many cases. For the witches and wizards who ended up there, Azkaban was comparable to dying. 

However, in the right company, even a place as lifeless as Azkaban could appear almost… welcoming. 

The dementors who resided there, much like the building itself, had a bad reputation when it came to the wizarding world. Foul, soul-sucking, evil creatures that no human dared get close to. The humans had a tendency to act on impulse. The slightest drop in temperature had them on edge, and when they felt it beginning; when they felt the first inkling of happiness draining from them, they would attack. 

Those creatures that the humans produced; they were the real monsters. Made up entirely of everything that dementors lived to destroy; all that hope and happiness that existed outside the walls of Azkaban. Yet, they were unable to be dimmed. They were horrible. 

Which is why, for dementors, Azkaban was the best place imaginable. There were humans there, yes, but these ones weren’t as harmful. They were unable to produce the bright creatures; and therefore were unable to interfere with the darkness, or fend off the dementors when they came around to feed on their happiness. 

Bellatrix, one of Azkaban’s dementors, was making her rounds of the prison on a particularly stormy night. She floated silently through the dim hallways, lit only by soft streams of moonlight which seeped through the thin cracks in the walls, which barely passed for windows. She stopped at each of the cells, taking her time sorting through their memories to find the happiest ones. Most of them didn’t even fight her anymore — not that they could in the first place, not without their creatures — but over time they had begun to just sit still and let it happen. 

It was evident, even without being able to see the humans, that they had lost all sense of themselves. All of the happiness from their memories had faded; now only a dull imitation of what they once were. Only a blind grasp in the dark, an attempt at finding something to cling to, to get them through. Making these rounds of Azkaban was almost Bellatrix’s favourite time of day. 

However, they paled in comparison to later in the night. 

Dementors generally didn’t interact much with others; each of them just went about their own business, crossing paths from time to time, but never stopping. They had one purpose, and that was to keep the humans in check. 

However, Bellatrix had grown close to one dementor in particular. She didn’t know how it had happened — neither of them did — only that there wasn’t a single night she didn’t end next to the other dementor anymore. 

Hermione always finished her rounds at the same time as Bellatrix; almost as if planned. They would start at opposite ends of the prison each evening, working their way towards each other as the sky grew darker outside. By the darkest hour of the night, they would meet at the end of their respective routes, and pass off their duties to other dementors. 

Then, together, they would head to the very top of the building, overlooking the sea, and they would stay there until it was time for their next shift. Together, they would hover at the edge of the building and listen to the waves crash against the stone walls below them. 

They always started off a good distance apart, but somehow, without either of them even realising, they would drift closer and closer to each other, until they were side by side. One of them would always reach out, closing the small gap between them, and intertwine their hands. They couldn’t necessarily feel anything from it, yet it still acted as a sort of intimacy between them. 

They could stay up there for hours on end; and they did. Right from the darkest part of the night, until they felt the air change around them, signalling the dawn breaking over the horizon. 

Sitting up there under the pitch black sky, staring out at an equally dark ocean, listening to the crashing of waves? That was Bellatrix’s favourite time of all. And it was Hermione’s, too. 

Dementors didn’t feel happiness themselves; they didn’t feel anything, really. However, through their intertwined hands, Bellatrix and Hermione could feel the memories they had just taken from the humans in Azkaban; projected them to each other, so that they could both feel them twice as strong. It was like a ghost of happiness passing through them; a strange feeling at first, but one they had gotten used to, and grown to crave even more than feeding on humans themselves. Not quite happiness, but something. 

And it was enough for them.


End file.
